Tag Archives: 15 weeks

So, there was always going to be a down-side to not screaming the news of this pregnancy from the rooftops the very second I found out.

You see, it’s not just you out there in the blog-iverse that had to wait. I’ve not really gone ‘public’ with the news of Baby #3 at all.

At nearly 15 weeks, I’ve just gradually been telling the people close to us. Like literally, our parents. And the staff at the gym.

We are not (GASP!!) facebook-official.

Of course, by the time you are reading this, we will be. But this is my coping mechanism for now, so just bear with me.

I have a sizable bump, but also a massive list of food reactions that people KNOW make me bloated and puffy. So people are generally too kind (or mostly afraid) to say anything.

BUT

I’m in this sort of limbo where I’m not actively trying to hide being pregnant, but also not feeling ready to have it all over social media. Most of that is my own anxiety, the just-in-case of something not being right. Part of it is the selfishness of having a pregnancy to ourselves and not having to answer a million questions about when he/she will be here, if I will find out the baby’s sex and if it was planned.

People are lovely. They ask questions because they care and are interested. Everything will be okay and I will be able to stop being worried soon. I’m getting okay with it. I’m literally a ticking clock of when it will all be public knowledge and on fb and instagram and I’m sure it won’t be anywhere near as scary as it feels in my head.

The tricky part at the moment though is the messages. Facebook messages, blog emails, text messages.

Stuff like this:

To be kind to my friends, these are NOT the real conversations. Just exactly the same as the real conversations without their details in them.

And yes, I have entirely neglected to reply to any message like this.

Damn you facebook and your .

It’s not that I’m mad at you. It’s not that you’ve done anything wrong. I’m just being a little bit weird about it.

I promise I’ll get back to you soon.

It really isn’t you. It really is me. And the Blueberry I’ll tell you all about later.